Meaning and Purpose at Ogden Point

(I'm doing another post so quickly after my last because we're watching a movie in class today, and I'll fall asleep if I don't do something productive.)

I want to discuss the monument analysis project that my group conducted, and some of the experiences we had during our research.

We chose to look at the memorial benches at Ogden Point and figure out who was being commemorated there. Initially we had a much longer route planned, but upon arrival we realized that there were far more benches at Ogden Point than we had anticipated.

Here's the link to our map of the monuments:

One thing that became apparent as we began recording the bench plaques and taking the photos was, quite frankly, how bleak the area was. We started with the crier statue and the three benches on the edge of the parking lot of Terminal B. The parking lot... was a parking lot. It was a grey day and the whole setting seemed quite gloomy, not in the way that a small churchyard cemetery can seem gloomy. There was nothing seemingly special about the area that we could tell; it looked like an other parking  lot. The view of the water from these three benches was dreary as well, nothing like the view one sees when visiting the harbor near the Empress. The grey sky was reflected in the water, and the docks and buildings that framed the view were gritty with use, not at all monumental or decorative. When we examined the crier statue, we noticed that it was painted specifically to look aged, and as we scanned it further, the brush strokes and feigned antiquity of the statue, which had been erected only a couple of years ago, become more and more apparent.  So we asked ourselves: why would anyone memorialize a family member in a place like this? Our disenchantment with the area was gratified by the presence of unmarked benches among the memorial ones, making the monuments seem more and more functional, and less and less personalized.

As we moved away from the parking lot, to the area closer to the breakwater, we began to come across benches that specifically referenced the area that they were placed in. The plaques spoke of how fond the deceased was of Dallas Road and of the breakwater. We also found a bench with a fresh rose tied to the backrest; it had obviously been visited recently by a loved one, in a manner strikingly similar to how one visits and pays respect to a grave. For me, this changed the whole picture of the space. Rather than being an unromantic area with a very functional purpose, the space became imbued with meaning, meaning that I perhaps didn't understand and didn't share with the residents, but meaning nonetheless. I have areas that I find special, and to others these areas may not seem particularly special, but they hold a certain significance to me. So why couldn't this pier hold a similar significance to another? Many of the deceased commemorated by the benches were employed by the navy, and perhaps being remembered so close to the sea helped those that survived them to keep their memory alive. For the locals in this area, there is a purpose to the pier beyond the functionality of the harbor.

The point of this analysis is to demonstrate how space may be imbued with meaning and how one cannot assume the significance of a space based on their own ideas of what is meaningful and what is not. Our project demonstrated this for me and allowed me to see Ogden Point using a more emic perspective than I initially had.

(All the Neanderthals are dying in the movie, it's getting dramatic!)

When you assume, you make an ass out of u and me

(I know, she's writing another blog post about gender... *sigh*)

zzzzzzz...

After today's introductory lecture on gender archaeology, I would like to address a major problem I see with many traditional interpretations of gender when looking at past peoples. Throughout the history of archaeology, cyclical reasoning has prevailed in the determination of how artifacts are gendered, and only in the past thirty or so years have archaeologists begun to deconstruct this reasoning. This is particularly problematic in situations where sexing based on the skeletal remains is not possible. Using the "sword = male" assumption as an example, the reasoning basically goes as follows:

If you find a sword with an individual, one can safely determine that this individual is male.
     But how does one know that swords indicate a masculine identity?
Because they are found with men.
     But how does one know that swords are found only with men, if you cannot sex the skeleton?
Because swords indicate a male individual.
     But how does one know that swords indicate a masculine identity?
Because they are found with men.
(and so on and so on)

The wheels on the bus go round and round...

This reasoning was used for a great span of archaeology's history, until researchers began to recognize the flaws with this thinking, to address the complexity of gender identity beyond "sword = man" and to recognize that gender identity is largely culture-determined, as well as individual-determined, and not universal.

Another aspect of gender interpretation that I find particularly troubling is the double standard that has existed for some time concerning the function and purpose of certain artifacts and what they say about identity. For example, using the "sword = man" assumption again:

One finds a sword in a grave and under examination, the body is determined to be of a male individual. Why is the sword there?
     Because the individual was a warrior, hunter, chief, etc. and so it was appropriate for him to be buried with his sword.

One finds a sword in a grave and under examination, the body is determined to be of a female individual. Why is the sword there?
     Because it was placed in the grave by a loving husband, father, or other patriarchal individual who was a warrior, hunter, chief, etc. and so the sword is his, and this is an indication of his love and generosity, and one can assume her faithfulness and dutifulness as a wife, daughter, or other typically female role that relates her to a male.

Relevant I think...

Why isn't it assumed that the sword is a gift to the man? Why do we assume that it is an indicator of an active behaviour on the part of the man, but of a relationship on the part of the woman? Perhaps the woman really liked to use swords. Perhaps she made swords. Perhaps the man's wife or sibling or other relation used swords and thought it an appropriate gift to give him in death. Perhaps the presence of the sword is not an indicator of gender, but rather an indicator of group identity.

The point of this post is to address the complexity of gendering an artifact and the importance of addressing one's own assumptions about gender roles before interpreting the gender roles of another people. It is refreshing to study the alternative explanations for the presence of grave goods beyond "sword = man" but these assumptions still exist in the literature today. One final point to consider is that identity itself is complex, and gender is one small piece of the identity pie. Other factors,  such as age, ethnicity, occupation, religious affiliation, etc. affect how an individual perceives themself and how their larger community perceives them as well. The presence of a grave good may have very little to do with the deceased individual's gender. It may have something to do with the gender of the individual that placed it there, or perhaps it has to do with other aspects of identity. I am not simply female; there is much more to my identity beyond my gender, so why would we assume that gendering an individual is a cut-and-dry way to determine their identity and life story?

Identity is complex, simple as that.

If Found, Return To Sender

When I die, I would like to be placed in a patch of earth covered with tulips, where my loved ones that survive me can walk through and feel no sadness. Tulips are one of my favourite flowers. I love the different shades of pinks and whites swirling around together in the breeze. They are the botanical embodiment of delight in my eyes. I don't mind being put in the ground; I wouldn't want any part of me blowing around in the wind, disappearing into nothing and eventually forgotten. I want my body to be in a place that my loved ones can visit in happiness, and where maybe one day a stranger can find my grave and ask questions about me. I would like my resting place to be marked with a small figure of a house cat, resting in the sun and wearing a sweater, and at the base of this figure I would like the words "Amina Chergui: Buried Alive" to be engraved in the stone. Even if my loved ones feel sadness at my passing, I would still like them to smile even for a second when they see my grave. I wouldn't mind being excavated and put on display; in fact, I think I'd rather enjoy it. I would love to know the different theories that people would create about who I was and what my life was like, and how they would interpret my gravestone. I would have myself buried with things like animal bones, silver and yarns, thinks that I think make up part of my identity, but I would also throw in some arrow heads, alcohol bottles and figurines of various religious figures, just to perplex anyone studying my grave, maybe even have a brick jammed in my mouth. 

Growing up, my father was Muslim and my mother was Christian. Neither faith ever stuck with me, and I see pros and cons with both, but I could never rid myself of spirituality, and the importance of thinking about the meaning of things. I don't believe there is a patriarchal god or a cloudy heaven after death, but I believe that there is something more that I don't know and can't really understand. I believe life was made for living, not worrying about death. But when one does die, I do believe that a certain amount of respect for their remains is necessary, and that they should be treated in death the way they were in life. I like to think that humor is a dominant motivator in the way I interact with people, as is respect and the search for peace. So I would like my burial to incorporate these factors; I don't want a funeral where everyone is sad, but rather a gathering where everyone is happy, celebrating what I have accomplished and the relationships I have formed. Some people organize celebrations of their lives while they are still living, so that they can enjoy the memories that they have created with people and see the impact that they have made. I might do something like that when I'm older, if my loved ones are willing. I also believe that funerals and burial is in a lot of ways primarily for the living. I have an idea about what I would want, but ultimately I would just want those who survived me to grieve as painlessly as possible. As long as my loved ones are taken care of emotionally, in reality what becomes of my remains is not important to me.

Unless those boat-burning funerals become legal. That would be sweet.